Prelude to the Opera
by bettingonalice123
Summary: How did Christine's father really die? What was her first meeting with the Phantom like? All of these questions and more answered in this story-based on Christine's young life. Based on the movie, NOT the book. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Okie Dokie. This is a little side project that I've been working on for some time, and I decided to finally post the first chapter of it, get some reactions, and decide whether or not to continue it.

So this is a story based on the Phantom of the Opera that basically tells the story of Christine's life from when she was around seven up to her first encounter with "The Angel of Music"

Just for the record, this is based off of the movie and Broadway, **not** the book, so if I have something in here that is inaccurate with the book, I apologize.

Enjoy!

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(This section takes place in the Prologue.)

"I have something to say." Five unaware, yet curious faces turned hesitantly toward Madame Giry, an old lady who was clearly near her death.

"This secret has burdened me for all of my life. It has weighed my shoulders down with the force that has required me to keep it secret. But now, I believe it is time to tell."

She paused, closing her eyes, the very image of defeat. She knew that she had to tell now, or the chance would never come again.

"You all remember Christine Daee. She was a very promising talent, even before she was orphaned. Her father died at a young age, a mystery that was never fully explained. But I know. I have known. And now it is time…"

"Daddy!"

Brown eyes like pools of shining light illuminated the face of the young girl dashing down the stairs. In her mind, the stairs took forever to reach the bottom of. She couldn't wait to reach the warm embrace of the man who had carried her through these seven years, who had been both friend and father. It seemed to her that her feet stayed on the same step while she was running, that she would never reach him. But from his point of view, it took only a matter of seconds to hold the girl who had taken the name of _his_ confidant, his wife, Christine. In truth, his daughter was the spitting image of his spouse, he knew that now as he looked over her dark auburn hair, but somehow, in his heart, she couldn't replace the woman he had loved and cherished with all of his soul. And, technically, it was at this child's mercy that she had died. He smiled. No. He couldn't blame his little angel for that. She was only a baby at the time, and Christine had been weak. He could still feel her hand in his as she slipped away from this world. He could image her face as she told him "Take care of her….take care…" But no time to think of that now.

"Say, angel, how about a cup of tea?" he inquired down onto the mass of curls covering Christine's head. Her reply came murmured into her father's chest, she still not wanting to leave his loving embrace.

"Tea it is then." He beckoned toward Millicent, the nanny. She took care of poor Christine while he was out, franchising with some of the world's finest orchestral companies. She was a tactful woman who didn't particularly like children, but did her job well, and with great accuracy. But she had no love for Christine. He wished with all of his heart that he didn't have to leave her, but he needed the money that came from his business ventures. Christine hated being left alone, thus the same scene we are now observing happens every day. And, as always, when Millicent called for the tea, he had to stand up with Christine attached to his leg like a monkey, and shuffle to the parlor with her riding on him. Then he plopped into his favorite blue chair, and propped Christine up in his lap, and pulled the small dining table toward him, which currently supported a tray adorned with cherries, holding a teapot, cream and sugar containers, and two delicate tea cups. He added two lumps of sugar to his tea, and prepared to add cream to hers-the only way she liked it. The same way his Christine had. Or so he thought.

"Daddy?" Her misty eyes were upon him.

"Yes dumpling?" His hand, holding the cream pitcher, hovered above her teacup.

"I want sugar in mine today." Her face pinched up at the thought of it, clearly the idea did not appeal to her as much as she wanted him to believe it did.

He chuckled. "And why ever not?"

Her eyes were shining brighter than two moons.

"Because.' Here she paused, looking at the tea. Then she turned back to her father. "I want mine to be like yours.'

His eyes welled up with tears.

That was his angel.

_(Two months later….)_

It was hot.

So unbearably hot that all anyone could do was hole up on porches and decks and fan themselves with palm branches. Except, of course, for Christine She took to prancing around in a yellow checked sundress and splashing in puddles left by a midnight shower. She was soon joined by a lean boy of nine years, clad in an immaculate suit, with clearly no regard for its cleanliness. His mop of yellowish-blond hair bounced on his head as he danced around merrily with Christine. This was Raoul. He had met Christine nearly a year ago. They saw each other and became immediate friends, as only children do. Ever since, Raoul had been Christine's companion. They would sit in the attic for hours, ears pressed to the floor, listening to Christine's father practice his violin, and come up with stories to fit the emotional music. Raoul also had a pet name for Christine, "Lotte" he called her. Many, many days had he come up tot eh door shouting, "Lotte! Little Lotte! Come down and play!" And Christine would fly down the stairs, grab his hand and fly out the door. They would sit in the lawn for hours, just talking, sometimes leaping up and twirling around, the others hands held tight, twirling faster and faster until they finally let go and fell into exhausted, contented lumps in the yard. Then they would continue conversing. It did her father's heart well to see Christine with a friend. She had been too attached to her father to be social, and had been taught at home by her nanny. And now she had Raoul. Clearly friends from the start. Soul mates, one might say.

Today, this hot, humid, summer day, was one of those days when that friendship was apparent to all who saw them. Christine and Raoul was the picture of contentedness. But, like all good things, it had to end.

"I guess I'd better get home." Raoul bowed slightly from the waist, then began to wave to Christine, then thought better of it, and ran over to hug her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, with a sheepish look toward her father, he scuttled off down the road.

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Okie then….Tell me what you think! Please tell me if you think I should continue this or not…anyway…review?


	2. Chapter 2

Well, I told you guys that I would do the best I could and I did! Here is chapter two! I hope you enjoy.

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"I love you Daddy."

Christine lay in the grass in front of her house. Her auburn hair was spread out from her head like a fan, laying lightly on the thin blades of grass. Her hands were laced tightly around the back of her head and she was dressed in a pink gown. Her eyes flicked toward the porch before returning to the sky, watching clouds pass. She sprung up, pointing.

"Lookie Daddy!" She jumped up and down, her finger skyward. "A bunny rabbit!"

He sighed happily, getting out of his chair and walking to where his daughter stood. He looked up at the sky, following her slim finger, pointing to an indescribable blob. He grinned, reaching down to grab his daughter.

"And a bunny it is." He said, balancing Christine on his hip, with her arms around his neck. "Now, angel, it's time for supper and then off to bed." Christine made a face, burrowing her head into her father's neck. He chuckled, then strode into the house.

Supper began. The two ate side by side, in a peaceful silence. That is, before Christine began wailing seven-year-old wails.

Gustave shook his head, jumping out of his seat to his weeping daughter.

"Now, now, angel. Don't cry." He took a napkin, dabbing at the red stain on Christine's dress, the result of a spilled spoon of tomato soup. "It's okay," he said, calculating subconsciously how many washings it would take to pull a red stain out of a white dress.

"But Daddy," she said with a sniff. "It's ruined." A single tear dripped down her face.

"No, no, angel." He said. "Never ruined. A small stain on a beautiful dress. The point is to focus on the beauty instead of the blemish." A single sniff from his daughter.

"Besides, the stain will…"

His breath was knocked out of him as his daughter hit him with a full-force hug. Her arms wrapped around his neck, strangling him with a love that could only exist between daughter and father. She bent her head to his chest, burying her face in his shirt. He kissed her curls.

"There we go." He grinned. "Now off to bed." Christine pursed her lips. "Now, now, don't be that way." He said, swooping her off her feet, carrying her like he did when she was a baby seven years ago. He carried her this way up the stairs and to her bedroom, laying her on a bed of blue silk. He covered her with the sheet, then the blanket. He kissed her cheek, then turned to leave.

"Daddy."

He turned back.

"Tell me the story of the Angel of Music." _(A/N: This idea (the story is borrowed from the book-which I recently read.)_

He sat on the bed and took a breath.

"The angel of music is the highest of all the angels. He lives up in heaven, singing songs to the other angels, and to God. Some have seen the angel of music. He is said to show to the best musicians of earth, teaching them and showing them how to help the world with their music. Only a select few have ever seen him, and even they see him scarcely. To meet him, is a great honor, child."

"Daddy?" She said

"Yes, angel?"

"Will I ever see the angel of music?" Her eyes met his, shimmering.

"Yes, child. When I am in heaven, I will send him to you." A smile lit up her face.

"But the angel only comes to those who sleep at night!" he joked, giving her a light tap on her nose and starting toward the door.

"Daddy?"

His hand stopped an inch from the lantern which illuminated the room.

"Yes?"

"Promise?"

He was confused. "Promise…?"

"Promise the angel will come?"

He smiled again, turning out the lantern.

"Yes, child. I promise."

He closed her door gently, it making a subtle "click" noise. He sighed, then went to his own bedroom.

He lay on the bed, his hands folded across his chest. He thought about what Christine had said. He promised her he would send the angel of music to her. But it was only a folktale…He shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts. She would forget by the time it mattered. And he turned out the light, letting sleep overtake him.

The morning came too soon. He'd slept restlessly, tossing and turning for an inexplicable reason. He awoke, dressed, ate breakfast, grabbed his violin case and started for the door. Christine was sitting at a small table, scribbling on a piece of paper with a pencil.

"Bye, angel." He said, halfway through the door.

She muttered a response, absorbed in her coloring. He shook his head. Children. He'd never understand them.

He ordered the carriage, riding off to his first destination-a theatre in the center of the town. An extravagant one it was, mainly dedicated to opera, but he had been invited to play there as a special event. When he went through the door, he was greeted with smiles and welcomes, but no real contact until he reached the main room and met the manager.

"Ah!" He said, moving away from the person he had been talking to. "We are most certainly looking forward to have the great Daee perform here at our theatre." He walked toward the stage, motioning for Gustave to follow him.

"We have sold every seat, except for box five. Now if you will follow me here…"

Gustave followed him, puzzling with every step.

"Why has box five..."

The manager shook his head.

"Oh, that's not to say it won't be occupied. It simply hasn't been sold."

Gustave blinked, following the man to the wings of the stage.

"You will wait here. The performance will begin in no less than thirty minutes time."

He nodded, his thoughts straying to Christine. He wondered how she was holding up at home with Millicent…

"Christine?" Millicent, the nanny, strode into the room where Christine was sitting, still drawing an elaborate picture. She looked up.

"A boy is here for you. He said he was here for Lotte."

Christine smiled, throwing her paper and pencil aside and flying out the door.

"Raoul!"

He was standing there, his hands in his pockets. He was hunched over, his eyes refusing to meet hers. He was unsmiling.

She furrowed her eyebrows, a worried expression on her face.

"I came to say goodbye."

Her eyes widened.

"But why…"

He shook his head, his blond hair flying in the air.

"We've leaving for Spain. My parents have to go for business." He shook his head again. "I don't understand it, but we've leaving." He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Christine…"

He took a step toward her. She shook her head.

"No…" she said, easing the front door open.

He stumbled backward, hurt.

"Well…" he continued backing up. "I hope I'll see you again someday. Goodbye…Christine…" And he left, walking down the street. Christine stood, dazed.

Then she threw the door open and flew up the stairs, hurling herself onto her bed, sobbing inconsolably. She would never see Raoul again. Never again! She cried until a huge wet spot appeared her pillow from the tears. After fifteen minutes, Millicent opened the door. Her eyes were wide.

"Christine." She said it almost affectionately. "A telegram just arrived."

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Yay me! Cliffhanger! And a new chapter! I'm going to sincerely try to get another chapter up this weekend, but if I don't, don't expect one for a few months, okay?

Oh, and if you guess what just happened, you win a cookie! Yay!! Virtual cookies!


	3. Author's Note

First Note: This is NOT a new chapter, just another author's note, but this one has a happier tone.

As you all know, my stories have all been on a hiatus recently because I've had sooo many things going on. BUUUT….

School is almost out!! (screams) As such, the summer is just around the corner and I will be able to write a heck of a lot more. If we're lucky, during the summer months you all will be getting a chapter every two or so days and I may even finish during that time period. But, we only have two weeks left of school (hallelujah), so if you all can wait just that long for a new chapter and not totally abandon me, I would be eternally grateful. (and show it with those quick updates!!)

bettingonalice123


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